


A Commander Scorned

by AlienAnimator



Category: Duck Dodgers in the 24 1/2th Century, Looney Tunes | Merrie Melodies
Genre: Other, Rebellion, Resistance, Science Fiction, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 02:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13964970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlienAnimator/pseuds/AlienAnimator
Summary: All tyranny is eventually overthrown.





	1. The Broadcast

Every holoscreen on Mars lit up with the same message. An image of the Martian queen standing in front of a podium flickered to life as she seemed to organize some papers in front of her. She cleared her throat and began to speak.

"Hello, all my loyal subjects! As you know from my previous announcement, some changes in policy need to be made around here. One thing I have noticed is our decreased firepower. Our _enemies_  encroaching on our freedoms have been getting away with more than an empire like ours should _ever_ allow. We have the most cutting edge medical and such technology in the solar system already due to the advancements we have already made, so I propose we cut back on our investment in that field for just a little while. Our top priority right now should be protecting ourselves, so excess spending will be used to bolster our impressive military. We _will_  make sure the Milky Way knows of the great Martian Empire! Drafting will be increased to make sure that this occurs, and no attempts to sabotage this important part of our society by not pitching in will be tolerated. Meeting adjourned, my subjects."

 

**Two Weeks Later**

Marvin sighed as he flipped to another news channel, detailing the same events as the first: the citizen protests occurring as a result of the newest legislation. The reporter on site was shoved by one of the many members of the populace holding signs, and Marvin turned off the TV in exasperation.

"My queen? It seems your attempts to silence them were not successful."

"Then do something about it. You do have control over a whole platoon, do you not?"

"I don't believe I can use force, no. They do have, er, freedom of speech."

"They do, now? I should probably do something about that." Tyr'ahnee said, a finger to her lips in a coquettish gesture.

Marvin rolled his eyes once she had sauntered out of view. He was still feeling the bruises from his most recent demotion. Every so often the queen found it necessary to make him into a slave boy and lend him out to whoever she pleased, to "get back at him", whatever that meant. However, his physical scrapes paled in comparison to the feeling of revulsion that rose in his stomach whenever he thought of the _humiliation_ , the _dehumanization_. Being someone's _toy_  made him feel sick.

The queen popped her head back in the doorway. "Oh yeah, I have something for you to do? Could you go out there and, you know, rough a few of them up for me? Show them that the state is not to be messed with?"

Marvin felt a spark ignite a long-forgotten flame inside him. He'd been subordinate for so long, doing whatever she told him. It had squashed any semblance of morals so deep down he'd almost forgotten they were there, keeping him docile with the ever-forbidden fruit of possible romance. All of that was burning down. Marvin was done.

"You know what?" the Martian whispered to himself, getting louder every second. "You know what? I'm not going to be your pawn. I'm not going to be your emotionless tool of tyranny. I'm not going to let you use me to do this." Marvin was near yelling. He could feel his face growing hotter with rage. "You can take your policies and... and silencing, and all your tendrils of control wrapped around everyone and take over this world, but I'm not going to help you do it. I am leaving. Don't bother trying to demote me this time, because I won't have one bit of it anymore." The Martian grabbed his helmet and stormed out the door toward his spaceship, stomping and muttering all the way.

The Martian queen giggled as she removed a mini-disk from the security camera that had been trained on Marvin through his rant.


	2. The Bunker

Marvin fiddled with the radio controls on his ship's dashboard. Absentmindedly flipping from station to station, he didn't know where he was going, just that it was somewhere far away. He was staring out the windshield when a news station caught his attention.

"-cause of this insubordination and override of a direct order, the former Commander of the Martian fleet has been stripped of his title and designated a dangerous fugitive. Anyone with information concerning X2, aka, Marvin's location is highly encouraged to report to their superior. Due to the fact that he seems to be in support of a political splinter, any other Martians in allegiance with such an organization will be prosecuted. Here's a clip of the offending material that caused this designation."

Marvin's blood turned to ice. His hands shook as he turned the volume down to its minimum. At this rate, if there had already been a reward instated, he would be caught and taken into custody by nightfall. The Martian racked his brain for anywhere he wouldn't be noticed for at least another day. Running through every moment of his career for ideas, his mind finally rested on the old hangar he had been given his first basic training in. It was never used anymore now, but it was still hooked up to the power grid to the best of his knowledge, so it would do for just a little while. He punched in the coordinates and set his course. It would take but an hour.

Pulling into the docking bay, the doors, though ancient, still recognized Marvin's ship as a registered government vehicle and allowed him entrance. The landing gear gently touched down, stirring up years worth of dust that caused the Martian to cough as he opened his cockpit door. The building, in its heyday, had had ships full of recruits and graduates buzzing in and out every waking moment, but now it only held one. Marvin was too busy inspecting his location to notice the sound of a laser gun being cocked.

"Freeze! You're in protected- wait, Commander X2? What are you doing here?" Marvin, having put his hands up as fast as he could, was now looking down at a Martian in a light blue uniform, lowering their weapon and wearing a very confused expression.

"I'm not looking to cause any trouble. I just needed somewhere to go after..." The Martian's voice trailed off.

"Oh, we know, believe me! I can't believe you finally gave the Queen a taste of her own medicine!" Having loosened up significantly, the blue-clad Martian began to introduce himself. "I'm Max. I guess we had a similar idea about where to go?"

"I don't... Excuse me?" Marvin put his hand to his head in bewilderment. "Who are you, and _why_  are you in an abandoned basic training facility?"

Walking over to the barracks, Max motioned for the other Martian to follow him. "So you know the guy in the foreground of the stock footage all the news crews use to make it look like they have coverage on the protesting that's going on? That was me. And _apparently_  the Queen instated some sort of 're-alignment policy' for 'political splinters'. And some guy from my apartment block reported me. So, yeah. Here I am!" He spun around with a flourish, gesturing with jazz hands and continuing his path backward. Finishing his description, the Martian walked into one of the many dormitories. "Hey, Martha, good luck on that code!"

"Excuse me, ' _Martha_ '? Just how many of you _are_  there?" Marvin incredulously exclaimed.

Counting on his hands, Max began to answer. "Let's see, that's my roommate, a few of my net-friends, some other Martians who got convicted... there's about 15 of us, and we're all apparently outlaws now. But now you're here! You can actually bring some, I don't know, organization, Commander!"

 

An interesting idea began to condense in Marvin's mind.

 

"I'm going to need you all to give me your skillset reports."


	3. The Briefing

 

"Max the Martian, fighter pilot?"

"Here!"

"Martha the Martian, computer coding and device repurposing?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Millie the Martian, public relations?"

"Present!"

"Maja the Martian, medic?"

"At attention!"

Marvin ran down a carefully compiled attendance list of the ragtag crew that seemed to have gathered. It felt nice to lead a platoon again. The Martian was never fully at ease unless he knew someone had his back.

"To go over this one more time: is everyone here _fully_ aware of what type of organization we are forming?"

"Is this the line for Burger Palace?" Max cracked, promptly being elbowed in the back by Martha.

"Very funny. Let's begin." Marvin hauled a clunky projector he had salvaged from one of the briefing rooms out in front of the group. Sliding his holoscreen into the viewport on the side, Marvin produced a pointer from behind his back. "As you know, the Martian queen Tyr'ahnee has recently passed a decree cutting budgets, freedoms, and societal focus in general for anything that is not the Martian military and military spending. She has also taken away freedom of speech for the populace, such that anyone who voices an opinion against her will be taken and interrogated, if they are not jailed. We need a plan. What I propose is that we attempt to take out or disable important weaponry first." Drawing a diagram with a dry-erase marker on the wall, Marvin illustrated the interior of the main royal building. "I know the layout of the palace, as I was employed there as a top commander. Most of the hard-hitting artillery should be stored in the armory section, which is here." The Martian drew an X on one of the larger rooms of the layout he had drawn. "However, we don't have the resources to launch anything like that at this time. I suggest that we establish a recruitment program as our top priority. Max, do you know what network you used to convince your net-friends to sign on?"

The talkative Martian's eyes lit up with comprehension. "Yeah, actually, I do! Do you want me to see if anyone is willing to donate supplies, ships, whatever?"

"Absolutely. That would be extremely useful of you." Marvin turned to Martha next. A robotics hobbyist, she didn't seem to have any combat experience or equipment, instead wearing a purple sweater vest. "We're going to need your help getting this place shipshape and making sure all the equipment is updated with the latest drivers. Do you know how to disable registration protection on a docking door?"

"I'm a little rusty, but I bet I could figure it out!" Martha said, beaming.

Marvin gradually went down the line, focusing on maintenance to get all the parts of the facility back to their original functionality. Once he finished briefing the last newly-appointed cadet, he sighed and sat against his ship, attempting to settle his wildly spinning mind. _Let's see,_ he thought. _What do we not have covered? Everyone here can deal with something important, except- Research and laboratory work!_ The Martian jumped to his feet and began to pace. He couldn't remember any of his cadets mentioning that. It was a bit of a specialized field, requiring an extra year of training most Martians were not eager to sit through. Rubbing his temples, he tried his hardest to remember if he had met anyone who seemed suitable. Back on his old ship, when he was a Commander for the Martian army, he had appointed many members of his graduating Basic class to staff, but he couldn't recall anyone who-

 

Something clicked inside the Martian's brain.

 

Mello. At the beginning of his career, he had appointed a young but promising lab tech named Mello, and they had worked closely together until his reassignment to the Queen's armada. Scrambling for his comlink, Marvin prayed that their station number hadn't changed as he dialed it into the keypad. He knew from experience they wouldn't let him down.

 

**Three Hours Later**

 

A small green transport pod haphazardly made its way through the docking bay.


End file.
